Monthly Archives: July 2010

Finally, for the first time since Woob came home, it seems there’s enough balance in the household to be able to sit and relax occasionally and read. Oh, how I’ve missed reading and getting lost in a book or two. How do I pick my books? Even though I really think eventually I’ll get a book reader like Kindle, I prefer “real” books that you can go to the bookstore and browse through, look at the cover, hold and feel. While I’m reading I often like to ruffle the corner edges of the pages over and over–both for the sound and the pleasant feel on my fingers. Usually, I’ll head over to BN at lunch time, or sometimes even the used book store. If its BN, I head straight for the newest released paperbacks display, which is right next to the buy two get one free tables. I’m big on covers, even though they say you can’t judge books by them. If the cover is boring, I move on. If the title is interesting, I’ll stop. I am drawn especially to books with some historical reference, but still fiction. Not too cheesy, not to romance-y, not too beach read-y. And as a result, the books I buy are usually a little bit depressing–set in a war, or some such volitile time. I rarely pick a book based solely on the author, but occasionally that might just tip the scales for a certain title.

So, since this spring, I’ve read (I think) nine books, and am currently working on number ten. I’m sure before that, I hadn’t read ten in the past four years put together, so I’m pretty jazzed about it. Here are the titles that I’ve read so far:

Under the Dome ~ Stephen King (I was a little disappointed at the ending after reading such a long book–apparently SK was just tired of writing)

American Wife ~ Curtis Sittenfeld (Based loosely on the life of Laura Bush, though it is fiction)

South of Broad ~ Pat Conroy (Set in Charleston, and made me think back to a trip I took there once–I recognized some fo the places)

Just noticing, our little guy is all ears when we least expect him to be. We can tell him to do something a hundred times and he continues on as if you said nothing. You can raise your volume, ask him again, whatever. He can’t hear you (or so it seems). But rest assured, he IS listening.

In casually talking with other adults, if I mention the word “mom,” he’s listening (“How’s your mom doing these days?”). He responds, “who are you talking about, MY mom?” If I mention someone with his mom’s name, he is right there, asking, ” N? My N.?” He is always listening. He wants to hear more. He wants to know what we’re saying about her. He is always on alert. Its a cue to me that we probably need to initiate more conversations about N. with or around Woob. It seems he craves it.

A few times when N. has been on FB, I’ve told him she’s there and asked if he wanted me to email a message to her–each time, he excitedly says “yes”, and dictates a message along the lines of “I saw you at your house and we should visit and I love you, Mom,” which I dutifully send exactly as spoken. I wonder if that catches her off guard, but it seems to please her. The other morning when he first woke up and we had just finished our good mornings and our snuggles, he made the proclamation that “we need to visit my mom more often.” I did pass that proclamation on to her, and she said Woob is on their mind, too. Woob’s little sister J. apparently told a random stranger the other day at the store that she wanted to see her Bubby now 😉 . So, here’s hoping they’re able to come down to see us before the month is over. We’re checking our calendars.

I know I’m generalizing the behavior of my child onto others, but all of this makes me wonder about kiddos who grow up in homes where they know they were adopted, but nobody ever talks about it. Their little ears must be on alert all the time, waiting to pick up pieces of information, cues about their family and how to feel about them. It makes me wonder about the kiddos who don’t act like they’re listening, but they are, while their parents say unflattering things about their first parents, thinking their little ones aren’t paying attention.